


Sibling Rivalries Never Last

by yoshitakamine



Category: DC - Fandom, DCU
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, have to keep the balance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-28 19:46:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16729590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yoshitakamine/pseuds/yoshitakamine
Summary: After Dick finds himself in a situation he can't get out of, Bruce and Jason put aside their differences to help him. In the end, it only brings them together.





	Sibling Rivalries Never Last

The first thing Dick saw was the glimmering reflection of a pocket knife making its way to his roped hands. His vision was blurred, everything looked like glowing lights at night, little dots in the horizon. A voice was next to his ear, its cadence seemed to be telling him it was authoritative. It was hoarse, and Dick could almost hear every word getting stuck between their mouth and throat, it cracked at every turn of every sentence. He made no effort to move, his body had given up upon contact with the taut muscles carrying him- barely carrying him. The side of his head almost touched the ground and if he could focus his eyes, he would see the blood on the heavy boots smeared on the concrete with every step. Dick’s throat was pulsing, it was exposed, and he could feel it itching, something trickling down his Adam’s apple, between his collar bone and shoulders. He didn’t know if it was more blood, his, the voice’s who was now silent, or somebody else’s. He held onto wide forearms, his nails digging into them with gloved hands.

*

A faint “Richard” roused him momentarily, wincing at his head being met with a hard surface. He heard movement all around him, it was almost unbearable to focus on what was going on. There were more lights, a cart being pushed and the clinking sound of tools a few feet away from him. There were two voices now, an older one that came from his left. The other voice had remained on his right, along with a hand that had latched itself on his arm. It would squeeze him tighter every now and then and when it left, it’d come back hurriedly, almost scared at the absence of contact.

Lips pressed on his forehead, a strained kiss that left drops of something wet soaking his cheeks. He moved his arm to touch it, but it was buried in something hard and much bigger than it. His vision was coming back to him bit by bit, and the second thing he saw was pale blue eyes fixed on him. They were haunting, they belonged to a man haunted by many things.

Dick tried to open his mouth, but no words came out, instead he choked out a weak “ _hell_ ” and fell to his side. Those same blue eyes rushed to an opening, a black hole in the darkness, and soon many silhouettes followed. Some were walking fast towards him, other seemed more hesitant.

A tall figure- Jason- exchanged a glance with…it seemed like Bruce. Bruce…that’s the voice that rang in his ears after the explosion. He must’ve been the one who carried him from the basement. He seemed on edge, in a way only few people could tell. His shoulders were tense, and his hands were clasped together in front of him, as if in prayer. But Bruce never prays.

Dick called out to him, and he rose immediately. Bruce wavered, he held his stare for a bit before approaching him.

“It’s not your fault.” Dick whispered.

*

“You’re scum Slade.” His rough voice sounded almost panicked, and he grunted when the thug on his right twisted his arm.

Dick was unconscious on the ground just a few feet away, and Bruce was desperately trying to reach his utility belt with his other, loosely held arm. He fumbled, struggling to pick out anything he could get his hands on, smoke pellets, a batarang or even a flash grenade. Each second made his blood boil, the mere thought of his protégé—his son, vulnerable and at the mercy of a man like Deathstroke was terrifying, it paralyzed his senses.

“Little bird is drugged out of his mind, don’t you worry about him. He didn’t feel a thing.”

Bruce was pushed down by the two men and forced to look up at him, his blue eyes narrowed to a slit.

“You’re angry I hurt your little boy? Daddy’s gonna get us for this, isn’t he?” Slade nudged Dick’s still body with his boot. “ _If_ -“ he continued “he was in tip top condition, we’d be the ones lying unconscious right now. But no-” Slade paused, and dropped on one knee, catching Bruce’s chin with one hand “the Bat took quite a beating.”

Bruce pulled his face away and spat a bucketful of blood. He looked up at Slade again, only this time he was smiling, a faint almost sardonic smile.

Slade froze, but not enough to lose his cool.

“ _What are you up to,_ _you old sucker_?”

Bruce smiled again. “Why don’t you find out?”

“Hey _Slade_ -“Before he could turn around properly, Jason had pinned him down with his thighs on either side of his head and a gun held between his eyes. Slade’s men were out cold outside the room.

The helmet covering Jason’s face didn’t do much to hide the excitement in his voice after seeing Slade’s wide-eyed stare. “Remember these?” Slade groaned indignantly, feeling Jason’s knee digging into his shoulder bones “Custom made Desert Eagles.” He pulled the other one from the holster on his waist “Mark 6, 9mm. Funny how you can find the damndest things around here. Use a better passcode next time. More secure. It’ll help you sleep easier at night.”

“You’re getting cocky with age aren’t you kid-“

Jason pushed harder and Slade huffed out a ‘ _shit_ ’. “Don’t pretend you know me any better than he does.” He looked to the side, to Bruce lifting Dick to a standing position. He was still unconscious, and his legs swayed involuntarily with Bruce’s movements so he resorted to lifting him in his arms. Bruce could barely stand himself and it sent a sharp jolt to Jason’s chest. Sticking around with them meant he’d be reminded how much of a disappointment he’d be, how he’d never outshine the golden boy, the first son. He wondered if Bruce would’ve done the same for him, had he been in too deep. Jason pushed the thought away.

“Mind the gun, there are still lines we don’t cross.” Bruce panted, his limbs barely holding on after being tackled by the heavy-armored brutes Slade had paid to slow him down.

Jason kicked Slade, _hard_ , hard enough to know he’d feel it in the morning and pulled out a security card from his right pocket.

“Let me help-“Jason offered and Bruce jerked sideways, almost tripping but continuing forward.

“I’m fine. He needs medical attention, get the Batmobile ready. I’ve kept your voice print.”

“Gee, thanks.” Jason holstered his guns and sauntered past him. “How nice of you to remember I exist.”

“This isn’t the time Jas-“

“It never is with you, Bruce.” The helmet was impersonal, but impersonal was good for Jason. It’s how he wanted to keep things with Bruce. “Forget about it. Just lay him in the back seat.”

The ride to the Batcave was silent, save for the one time they both tried to change the frequency for the oncoming police feed in the radio. “Otisburg huh, you better get that later. Hero stuff and all that.” Jason took off his helmet and re-adjusted the mask underneath. He fixed a few tousled strands of hair in the rear-view mirror and coughed awkwardly, once or twice. Bruce hadn’t said a word. He’d check on Dick subtly by pretending to glance behind them, for any convoys or other surprises.  

“He’ll be okay.” Jason croaked.

*

Dick was recuperating back in his room, his old room, the one across Jason’s old room on the second floor. Not much had changed since he had left, and he preferred it that way. The nostalgia factor kept him busy as he waited for the morphine to reach every broken part of his body. Alfred’s tea blend was as strong as ever, and he tried to relax next to the fire they had for him. His bandages were firmly in place, and he thought of how duty would call any minute now and he’d have to mess them up again.

He heard a knock on the door, with Jason following. He was wearing a simple brown long sleeved shirt Alfred must’ve picked out from Bruce’s pile of unworn clothes. Dick hadn’t seen him in such a casual setting in a while, and strangely enough it filled him with a feeling of complacency. Jason took a seat next to him and cleared his throat “Alfred said you sustained some…broken ribs, no collapsed lungs thankfully, a dislocated shoulder and-“ he looked down at the cast “a broken arm.”

“Thank you, nurse, anything else I should know about?” Dick smiled at him warmly.

Jason chuckled at that and pushed his chair back “What? This isn’t enough of a damage report for you Grayson? I can give you a ride back to that warehouse if you want.”

They both laughed, then the conversation fell into an unavoidable silence.

“How is he?” Dick whispered, almost to himself.

“He’s doing good. I’ve never seen him that worried.”

They shared a look, and Jason tried his best not to look bitter. “You’re really his favorite y’know, should’ve seen the look on his face, he thought you were gone this time.” he suddenly said after moving to the window, looking above the gardens.

Tim was there too, unbeknownst to them and barged in holding a tray of food. “Oh Jason! Sorry, I’d have brought more food if I knew you’d be staying.”

They both stared at him and after a few seconds Dick spoke first “You mean that’s a single serving?”

Alfred had given Tim a big bowl of chicken soup, half a loaf of bread, a seasonal salad, steak with a side of corn and various herbs, a cup of pudding, grilled salmon with rice and a pitcher of ice-cold water.

“I must’ve missed something here, am I recovering from starvation or a night of  fighting?”

Tim looked as perplexed as they did and for a minute contemplated about taking it back downstairs “Bruce told Alfred to make you something that’d keep you, well…full.”

“Define full and near dying of overeating for me Tim.” Jason said and came closer, whiffing the various smells coming from the fish and meat.

“You can stay over for lunch. Or rather, you _have_ to stay over for lunch and help me finish all this Jason. “ Tim passed the tray to Dick and he was about to get to the salad when another knock on the door made him put the fork down and call them inside.

Bruce had walked in without thinking there’d be anyone else in the room, hoping to leave some towels for Dick in case he wanted to use the shower. First he saw Tim, standing right next to Dick’s bed, then Jason holding a spoonful of pudding and lastly Dick, who looked as innocent as a 3-year-old left alone with crayolas.

“Am I interrupting something?” he held his stare, going over everyone in the room.

Tim and Jason ran for the door like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing but Bruce called out to them both, stopping them before they could reach the doorframe. “I didn’t say you had to leave. This is your home too.”

Jason’s hand was on the doorknob, twisting it ever so slightly. He knew Bruce was talking about him. He opened the door and walked out to the hallway. Dick shoved the tray aside, and tried to get up and chase after him, but he was pushed down by Tim who tried his best to reason with him.

A few minutes passed and they heard foosteps coming from the end of the hallway and Jason walked in, holding a tray in one hand and a beer in the other. “What? I’m here for the food so don’t get any ideas.”

Bruce crossed his arms and gave him a faint smile, sending for Alfred to bring a few more trays so they could have lunch upstairs.  

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm alive. After....I don't even know when the last time I posted was...anywho this isn't much, but it started off as angsty then cute, so I thought I'd give it a shot..!!


End file.
